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A Tale of Two Cities

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On a steaming, misty afternoon, Mr. Lorry sat at his desk, and Charles Darnay stood leaning on it, talking with him in a low voice. The penitential den once set apart for interviews with the House, was now the news-Exchange, and was filled to overflowing. It was within half an hour or so of the time of closing. One steamy afternoon, Mr. Lorry sat at his desk. Charles Darnay stood leaning on it, talking to him quietly. The cell-like room, which had once been for interviews with the head of the bank, was now the newsroom, and it was filled to overflowing with people. It was within half an hour or so of closing time.
“But, although you are the youngest man that ever lived,” said Charles Darnay, rather hesitating, “I must still suggest to you—” “Even though you are as youthful as the youngest man that ever lived,” said Charles Darnay, hesitating, “I still have to suggest to you—”
“I understand. That I am too old?” said Mr. Lorry. “I understand. I am too old?” said Mr. Lorry.
“Unsettled weather, a long journey, uncertain means of travelling, a disorganised country, a city that may not be even safe for you.” “You will face bad weather, a long journey, unreliable means of traveling, a country in turmoil, and a city that might not even be safe for you.”
“My dear Charles,” said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidence, “you touch some of the reasons for my going: not for my staying away. It is safe enough for me; nobody will care to interfere with an old fellow of hard upon fourscore when there are so many people there much better worth interfering with. As to its being a disorganised city, if it were not a disorganised city there would be no occasion to send somebody from our House here to our House there, who knows the city and the business, of old, and is in Tellson’s confidence. As to the uncertain travelling, the long journey, and the winter weather, if I were not prepared to submit myself to a few inconveniences for the sake of Tellson’s, after all these years, who ought to be?” “My dear Charles,” said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidence, “these are some of the reasons why I’m going, not why I should stay away. It is safe enough for me. Nobody will want to bother an old man who’s almost eighty when there are so many people there that are more worth bothering than me. As far as the city being disorganized, if it were not disorganized there would be no reason to send someone from our office here in London to our office in Paris. Someone who knows the city and the business well and who can be trusted. As far as the uncertain traveling, the long trip, and the winter weather, if I weren’t ready to suffer a bit for the sake of Tellson’s Bank after all these years, who should be?”
“I wish I were going myself,” said Charles Darnay, somewhat restlessly, and like one thinking aloud. “I wish I were going myself,” said Charles Darnay. He said it restlessly, and as if he were thinking aloud.
“Indeed! You are a pretty fellow to object and advise!” exclaimed Mr. Lorry. “You wish you were going yourself? And you a Frenchman born? You are a wise counsellor.” “Really? You’re one to talk!” said Mr. Lorry. “You wish you were going yourself? You’re a Frenchman. You’re a smart adviser, aren’t you?”
“My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I am a Frenchman born, that the thought (which I did not mean to utter here, however) has passed through my mind often. One cannot help thinking, having had some sympathy for the miserable people, and having abandoned something to them,” he spoke here in his former thoughtful manner, “that one might be listened to, and might have the power to persuade to some restraint. Only last night, after you had left us, when I was talking to Lucie—” “My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I’m a Frenchman that the thought—which I didn’t mean to say out loud right now—has occurred to me often. I can’t help thinking that I have abandoned the poor people of France,” Darnay said in his reasonable manner. “They might listen to me, and I might be able to persuade them to restrain themselves. Only last night, after you left us, when I was talking to Lucie—”
“When you were talking to Lucie,” Mr. Lorry repeated. “Yes. I wonder you are not ashamed to mention the name of Lucie! Wishing you were going to France at this time of day!” “When you were talking to Lucie,” Mr. Lorry repeated. “Yes. I’m amazed that you’re not ashamed to mention her name! Wishing you were going to France!”
“However, I am not going,” said Charles Darnay, with a smile. “It is more to the purpose that you say you are.” “However, I’m not going,” said Charles Darnay, with a smile. “The point is that you say you're going.”
“And I am, in plain reality. The truth is, my dear Charles,” Mr. Lorry glanced at the distant House, and lowered his voice, “you can have no conception of the difficulty with which our business is transacted, and of the peril in which our books and papers over yonder are involved. The Lord above knows what the compromising consequences would be to numbers of people, if some of our documents were seized or destroyed; and they might be, at any time, you know, for who can say that Paris is not set afire to-day, or sacked to-morrow! Now, a judicious selection from these with the least possible delay, and the burying of them, or otherwise getting of them out of harm’s way, is within the power (without loss of precious time) of scarcely any one but myself, if any one. And shall I hang back, when Tellson’s knows this and says this—Tellson’s, whose bread I have eaten these sixty years—because I am a little stiff about the joints? Why, I am a boy, sir, to half a dozen old codgers here!” “The reality is that I am going. The truth is, Charles,” Mr. Lorry glanced at the head of the bank and lowered his voice, “you have no idea how difficult it is for us to conduct business there. Our records and papers in France are in serious danger. Lord knows what might happen to many people if some of our documents were taken or destroyed. And they might be taken at any time, you know. Who knows if Paris will be set on fire today or ransacked tomorrow? Now, only I can go there, take a careful selection from these documents, and bury them or otherwise get them out of harm’s way. Should I stay here when Tellson’s knows this and tells me this—Tellson’s, where I have worked for sixty years—because I’m a little old? Why, I am a young boy, sir, compared to a dozen of the old men here!”

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